
Eleanor Bolton
There have been so many rumours about ‘the Botley Bag Lady’ – ‘She
and her husband were both medics’, ‘she walked out of the house when
she found he had killed himself and never went back’, she ’had a double
first in Maths from Oxford’, etc, etc, that we thought it would be a good
idea to go to her funeral, pay our respects to a remarkable character, and
learn a few facts. It turned out that she grew up at Bloxham School, where
her father was a much-loved housemaster; was very clever and bright as
a child; got a Maths degree from Royal Holloway College; and was
always concerned about a life of such privilege when others had so little.
Her personal life remains private, but none of the above rumours seems
to be true. People remember her on the Botley Road from the Eighties.
The tribute below comes from someone who knew her better than most:
Mary Squires, who worked at the Luther Street Clinic which cares for
homeless people. A doctor from the same clinic, Kate Short, sang
Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’ with touching sweetness at a funeral that was
calmer and more upbeat than most, and her ashes were buried in her
parents’ grave in Bloxham churchyard. Editor.
Eleanor was a very private person, yet
she lived in the midst of the busy city of
Oxford and through her regular walking
along the Botley road, of sitting reading
of newspapers at bus stops along the
way and daily picking through bits of
rubbish, collecting bits of discarded
paper, plastic lids and bottles, stuffing
them in bags, she also became part of
many people’s routine. They knew her
as the Botley Bag Lady. Some never
spoke to her – in a rush for work – some
would nod a greeting, others stopped for a regular chat: she was noticed,
seen, people cared and wondered, and now she is missed.
I met her in back in 2001. It took at least a year to build up any rapport
with Eleanor. I saw how she lived and wanted to “help” her. I wanted her
to have. I wanted to give food to her, I wanted clothes for her, a house for
her. I saw a petite, slightly stooped, older lady looking uncared for – and
I cared. But she would politely and steadfastly refuse anything –
everything – offered.